Madeline

Thou art not steeped in golden languors,

No trancéd summercalm is thine,

Evervarying Madeline.

Through light and shadow thou dost range,

Sudden glances, sweet and strange,

Delicious spites, and darling angers,

And aery forms of flitting change.

Smiling, frowning, evermore,

Thou art perfect in lovelore.

Revealings deep and clear are thine

Of wealthy smiles: but who may know

Whether smile or frown be fleeter?

Whether smile or frown be sweeter,

Who may know?

Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow

Light-glooming over eyes divine

Like little clouds sunfringed, are thine,

Evervarying Madeline.

Thy smile and frown are not aloof

From one another,

Each to each is dearest brother;

Hues of the silken sheeny woof

Momently shot into each other.

All the mystery is thine;

Smiling frowning evermore,

Thou art perfect in lovelore,

Evervarying Madeline.

A subtle, sudden flame,

By veering passion fanned,

About thee breaks and dances;

When I would kiss thy hand,

The flush of angered shame

O'erflows thy calmer glances,

And o'er black brows drops down

A sudden-curvéd frown:

But when I turn away,

Thou, willing me to stay,

Wooest not, nor vainly wranglest;

But, looking fixedly the while,

All my bounding heart entanglest

In a golden-netted smile;

Then in madness and in bliss,

If my lips should dare to kiss

Thy taper fingers amorously[errata 1],

Again thou blushest angerly,

And o'er black brows drops down

A sudden-curvéd frown.